Mia's POV
Michael and I have been…I wanna say dating, but I'm not sure if that's right. Does he think of me as his girlfriend? Or am I just someone he likes to kiss a lot. And I mean A LOT.
Anyway, Grandmere has been on my case since we started this kissing-thing a few weeks ago. She keeps saying that I'm distracted, that I'm not paying attention. Of course I'm not paying attention when she's berating me on the boring details of my royal duties or whatever she babbles on about.
But I don't care. Michael's lips make it all worth it. Just like I always imagined they would be, they're soft and warm and gorgeous. And kissing his actual lips, as opposed to the lips on my Michael Wilson poster, is so much better. Nothing compares to it.
So she can moan about me not paying attention all she likes, I'm happy and that's all that matters. I'm going to keep seeing (or kissing, whatever) Michael, and there's nothing she can do about it.
Michael's POV
Early morning shoots suck. I'm not much of a morning person, so making sure I'm up early enough for makeup at 5am is torture. It's worse than wearing makeup in the first place. A little foundation never hurt anyone. And besides, it's actually nice sitting back and letting someone fuss over me.
"Michael, we need to talk," a deep voice came from the door. Jacques.
Great. Just the perfect time for a talk. It's 5.15am, and I can't move my face because of the face-tightening cream Joni, my makeup artist, insists on plastering on my face before she even starts with the makeup.
With minimal movement of my face, I muttered for him to come sit down.
"What's up, Jacques?" I said, though with my face tightened, it came
out more like, 'Wa hup, Chock?'
"I got a phone call yesterday," he said, rather somber. "From the Dowager Princess."
Uh oh. Mia's told me all about Grandmere. I wonder what she had to say for herself.
"She feels," Jacques continued. "That Mia's been rather distracted lately. That maybe something is happening when she visits the set, which keeps her distracted even when she's away from the set. Now, I don't know what's going on, but I'm guessing that it has something to do with you."
Mia and I have been rather secretive about our relationship. Not only do I not like showing Public Displays of Affection, but I don't want the media hounding her even more than they already do with the Princess thing. We'll tell the world about us when we're ready, I guess.
I nodded, and was about to mutter that I was sorry, and that I would encourage Mia to keep her concentration up around her grandmother, but Jacques kept talking.
"So maybe you could try to be a little nicer to the princess, okay?
Maybe then she won't be worrying herself over what Michael Wilson thinks of her, and why he can't be nicer to her. So throw her a smile or something once and again. It wouldn't kill you, would it?"
I'll throw her more than a smile, I thought.
"Mmmkay," I mumbled. Why tell him the truth if he doesn't need to know?
Knowing him, he'd only tell me to keep my hands to myself.
It's better this way. Really. And to make Mia concentrate more to keep
Grandmere happy, I'll offer incentives for the next time she sees me.
Who can resist my Snoopy impersonations?
Mia's POV
Michael called me after school, he said there was something we need to talk about. I hope he's not breaking up with me! Well, that's if we're actually dating. I have to ask him about that.
How do you go about asking someone how they think of you? Girlfriend?
Just a friend? Kissing partner?
Well, I guess I'm about to find out.
Michael pulled me into his trailer the second I knocked on it, and planted such a kiss on me I thought it was going to knock me to the floor.
"Hi," he said sheepishly when he finally pulled away.
"Hi," I replied, still a little taken aback by his boldness. Usually his kisses are softer, more gentle. Not that I mind a little aggression.
"Sit down." He motioned to the couch and sat down on one side. I sat next to him.
"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" I asked anxiously. He wouldn't be breaking up with me after a kiss like that, would he? Or was that like a goodbye kiss? One for the road.
"We'll talk about that later," he said. "Right now, I just want to do this."
He started nuzzling my neck, pushing me further back into the couch.
One hand was on the small of my back, and one in my hair.
"Michael, wait."
WHY, BRAIN, WHY? Why now? I have to ask him while he's kissing my neck like that? Who care's how he views me when he's doing this?
"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up and looking intently at me.
"I just need to know…what…" Oh God, what do I say?
"What?" he asked gently.
"What am I?"
An idiot. That's what I am. And I don't need him to tell me that!
He raised an eyebrow at me. "What are you? Mia, you're kind, and caring. You're beautiful and generous. You're…"
Stupidly, I interrupted his compliments.
"No, I mean, in relation to you."
"In relation to me?" he repeated.
"Yeah. Am I just a friend? Or your…girlfriend?" Did I just ask that?
Finally he smiled. "Mia, you're all that and more. I'm crazy about you, and I want to spend every waking moment with you. Playing Josh is torture to me, because I don't ever want to be that guy. And I hate that he treated you like that. I want to make it up to you."
He leaned down and kissed me again. If his kisses are his way of erasing what Josh did to me, then bring it on. Josh who?
Michael's POV
She's so sweet. I can't believe she had the courage to ask me what she
just asked me. Most girls I've ever gone out with have just assumed that after one date, we're attached at the hip. Yet she's been seeing me for weeks, and didn't jump to any conclusions. I bet I could have told her we were just friends, and she would have said, "Okay."
I called her over today to encourage her to keep up her concentration levels, but when I saw her I couldn't help myself. She was just standing there on my step, looking so sweet and innocent, I had to kiss her.
I really think-
The front door swung open and someone barged in.
"Michael! What d'ya think you're doing?"
With my heart in my throat, I looked up to the door (damn that broken lock) to see Jacques shooting daggers at me.
Uh oh.
